Dear Tri-Met Fare Inspector

After years of riding the MAX, today was the day you busted me. ALMOST. You came on the train, asked for fares and I began my false search through my Comme de Garçons wallet while wearing my $1,400 Issey Miyake winter coat. You saw me search, you asked me if I had my fare, but you moved on until you found an African-American with less fortune than me. We both got off at the same stop, a second inspector helped you humiliate him in front of the passengers as you both condescended to him and inevitably gave him a ticket which he won't be able to afford. I stood there and waited my turn and you turned your back. So I wanted to say THANK YOU to you and all of Portland for the racial profiling I see all the time in this small minded, cracker-assed puddle of a town. I'm so proud to live in a city that protects and serves the 74% of us honkeys from having to pay our just due. Now I can use that money to buy that pair of Yves Saint Laurent smoking patent loafers on mrporter.com! Thanks, Whitey! God, I miss living in Chicago...